gladiolus
by sugar free vanilla
Summary: "No wonder he sent her away when she showed up on his doorstep, soaked to her skin, confessing her want for him. Couldn't even manage to say she loved him, though it'd been the truth even then." AU take on the end of Always. Oneshot.


**This is an AU take on how Always could have ended. Kind of angsty, I guess and nothing really gets resolved. This grew a life of its own towards the end.**

**_Thanks for reading._**

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It's been three months.

Three months ago, she was thrown from a rooftop, left dangling in a scene terribly reminiscent of the Lion King; only instead of a stampede below, there was cold, hard tarmac and the possibility of speeding vehicles.

Yet the only thing on her mind had been him, his face as he left her apartment.

_I love you Kate, and if that means anything to you, if you care about me at all… just don't do this._

It meant everything. Care? She loved - _loves _- him with every fibre of her being.

She let him leave, thinking he was nothing to her and then she did the one thing he'd begged her not to do and it almost killed her.

Nothing gained, everything lost.

She misses him with a bone-deep ache that stabs at her with every sip of coffee (the drink doesn't make her smile anymore, it's not _his), _each glance at the chair she can't bring herself to move from the edge of her desk. It's glaringly empty now, silently haunting her day but getting rid of it means letting him go and - she _can't, _the very thought scalding her fiercely.

She'd been so _angry,_ felt so _betrayed. _An omission of truth equates to a lie in her eyes; he'd been preventing her from pursuing her mother's case when he had a _lead._ Kept it from her. In her focus upon her own feelings she'd forgotten her hypocrisy - that she'd lied too and she dismissed his acknowledgement of that with an _are you kidding me? you're really bringing this up right now, after you told me that you just betrayed me?_

As if lying to his face more than once about whether she could remember was any less terrible than his own perfidy. As though it was an afterthought, like she didn't give a damn as to how he felt, all that time.

No wonder he sent her away when she showed up on his doorstep, soaked to her skin, confessing her want for him. Couldn't even manage to say she loved him, though it'd been the truth even then.

The kisses linger with her still.

She can taste him on her lips whenever it rains, the phantom touch of his mouth.

And then he'd pushed her away, held her at arms length; the parallel made her feel sick - is this what it'd felt like to him, the last four years, as she'd done the same to him (albeit metaphorically)? It clawed at her stomach, acid burning in the scratches. "Beckett, no. I told you. I'm done. I can't. Just because your first choice didn't work out for you- no." His voice is broken but sure, devastated but firm. He'd released her - fetched her a towel and called his car service to take her home because that's who he is, caring even when he's hurt, a good man. The best. Looked at her one last time, a tear forming at the corner of his eye as he studied her face like he'd never see it again, was committing it to memory.

She bit back a sob, a jagged objection choking from her as he told her goodbye, pushing her gently out of his apartment; her battered muscles too weak to resist as he shut the door, cutting her out of his loft, his life.

She's almost certain she heard him slide heavily against the door to the ground, mirroring her actions as she drew her knees to her chest, back to the wood. Sat there until she had the strength to move, legs carrying her all the way back to her apartment through the thunder, rain beating down on her like shards of ice. She needs the numbing cold to dull the regret that flames inside her, grief blazing through her veins as she mourns the loss of him.

Three months and that fire still burns within her.

She's not seen him since that night, or spoken to him. She's sure he's blocked her number or changed his and that stings, sharp anguish in her blood, as does the fact he's told his doorman not to let her up.

She sits now at her mother's graveside, plucking the few dead petals from the purple gladiolus that's just starting to wilt after - a week or so, she thinks, these were definitely here on her last visit, though they were fresher then - and they truly are gorgeous, these flowers her father's been leaving and she makes a note to ask him which florist he uses.

She puts down her own offering, a little pot of chrysanthemums and sits, cross legged in front of Johanna Beckett's headstone, traces the Latin phrase gently.

_Vincit omnia veritas._ Truth conquers all.

Except maybe lies, she thinks bitterly - lies triumphed over the truth of his love, of hers. Destroyed whatever wonderful thing that they make could have had.

"Hey, Mom. I'm doin' okay - getting home at a reasonable hour, I'm eating well. I haven't looked at your case again, even now - I think the boys might know something but… I haven't asked. I can't, Mom - if I can't have him, I can at least do this _for _him. So I'm leaving your case for now. Working on me, on not throwing my life away - it's not fair on the people who love me Mom. I know you'd never have wanted that for me but I was so fixated on _justice _for so long that I lost sight of the rest of world; I can see it now, though. It's so much more than what I'd been living. I've been spending time with friends and visiting all the places I loved before they came too painful, before you died.

I'm _happier _than I've been in a long time, Mom - but also… I miss him. So much. I never thought he'd actually go, you know? Took him for granted. And now I have to walk into the precinct every day, knowing he's not gonna be there - and that hurts. But he showed me that there's more to life than murder so, until I've got enough grip on my own life not to drown in it, I'm laying off of yours; I'm sorry for that, though I know you wouldn't be.

Anyway, just thought I'd drop by and tell you I love you. Catch you up on everything - Dad's doing good, by the way. He's sponsoring a new kid, he's hopeful. Though he probably told you already - bet you're loving all these flowers he's leaving you. Anyway, I gotta go. Work beckons. See you soon, Mom."

Her knees click in complaint as she pushes to her feet from the hard ground of the cemetery, swiping her hands over her cheeks only too have them come away damp, black mascara stains smudging over the skin. She hadn't even noticed she was crying. A puff of air huffs heavily from her nose as she steadies her breathing, tucks her hands into her jacket pockets. She turns around and _oh. _

_Oh, God._

It's him.

Standing stock still and staring but a few metres away, clutching a bouquet of gladioli - green, this time - and it's been him the whole time, she realises.

She can't breathe. Three months and he looks _good._ Really good. She can't take her eyes off him, can't move or even blink. Until something in her shifts, and she runs.

Not away from him. She's never turning tail and fleeing again when it comes to Castle. She collides with his chest, wraps her arms around his neck so he can't move away. She inhales deeply as she presses against him, finds herself dizzy from the intoxicating scent of him. He remains motionless for a few heart-stopping seconds before he brings his arms up, crushes him to her.

"Kate." It's a reverent whisper against her hair and she chokes out a shattered sob.

"I love you." She's waited three months for the chance to tell him and she refuses to waste another second. "I love you, Castle. I'm so sorry."

He tenses around her for a moment, until he loosens on a weighted exhale. "I heard. What you said to your Mom. I'm happy for you… and - I miss you too. I'm so sorry that I hurt you by doing what I did, but I'm not sorry for doing it; can't be because... I love you. I love you - but it's too hard." _You hurt me. We hurt each other._

She can still read what he's thinking in the blue depths of his eyes.

"You come here every week." It isn't a question, but his face confirms her statement - expression asking how she could possibly know. "The flowers." She adds by way of explanation. "They're beautiful."

"They signify remembrance. Also stand for faithfulness and honour. Strength of character. The way you described your mom… they seemed fitting."

Unlooping one arm from him she presses a hand to her mouth to stop herself from crying. _Sweet, sweet man. _"That's - they're perfect. Thank you." She releases him and steps back, so she can see the whole figure of him.

Castle seems to hesitate for a moment, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he stares at the ground. The words must catch in his throat because coughs slightly before he speaks, raises his gaze to meet hers. "They were also for you. Kind of. They represent infatuation, that you pierce my heart. I can't get over you, Kate. I can't get over us even though we never began."

She wants so desperately to kiss him, fuse her lips to his and never let him go but she doesn't.

_Maybe it's not too late for them to start._

The least she can do is make sure they start right.

"Rick? I've gotta get back to work but - could we get coffee? Tomorrow. My treat."

_Every morning I bring you a cup of coffee just to see you smile_.

The memory of that fight hovers stagnantly in the air between them, sucks the faint trace of a smile from his face, the tentative grin from hers.

"No - not coffee." _We're not there yet. _"But, uh. There's a great exhibition on at the Met? If you want, I mean. To go."

"Yeah." She responds breathlessly, instantly. "Yeah, I'd love to."

"I'll call you so we can sort it?"

She nods. "You have my number?"

A shadow passes across his face. "Well - I had deleted it. But I know it, still. Unless you've changed it?"

"No, it's the same. So. I get off work at seven… If you call me around eight?"

"Is nine okay? Alexis is coming home for dinner tonight so I want to make the most of the time I have with her before she goes back to her dorm." It hits her that Alexis is in college and he hasn't had her or (as far as Beckett knows), the boys supporting him all this time; his mother the only constant he's had to fall back on, who he's really close to.

"Yeah, that's perfect. Speak then?" Kate keeps her tone light but there's a gentle waver that betrays her emotion and she can't help herself from wrapping herself around him again, revelling in his presence.

He nods his head in confirmation, chin bumping against her crown.

It's a long time before they separate, still connected by their hands as they stand in silence, not sure what words to choose when there's both nothing and everything to say. It's weird for them, this disjointed, hesitant conversation. They've a long way to go and a lot to talk about, but the encounter lights a beacon of hope in Kate's heart, forces all but the darkest of shadows that lurk there away.

"Speak then." And that's their cue to leave, part ways reluctantly. She watches for a moment as his stride falters on his short journey to the grave before turning away, back to her Crown Vic, a lightness to her gait that's not been there in a long time.


End file.
